


Don't You Doubt

by bettycoopergal



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Betty Cooper Loves Jughead Jones, F/M, I need this to actually happen, Jughead Jones Loves Betty Cooper, Makeup, Post-Canon, all is right with the world, post-2.05, this is solely to make me feel better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 16:35:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12708768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bettycoopergal/pseuds/bettycoopergal
Summary: Post-2.05. This is a one-shot that picks up in the middle of Jughead and Toni's kiss and ends in fluffy Bughead goodness. It's the reunion I think we deserve.bettycoopergal.tumblr.com





	Don't You Doubt

Toni is kissing him.

 

 _Toni_ is kissing him.

 

And he’s kissing her back.

 

But it feels so… wrong. Jughead’s brain is fuzzy, and he’s unbelievably hurt by the words that Archie spoke to him earlier, but he still knows that what he’s doing isn’t right. He feels Toni’s lips on his, but all he can think about is Betty’s. And, when he pushes Toni away and sees her hurt expression, all he can see is Betty’s.

 

“You have to go,” Jughead hears himself saying. He casts his eyes downward, not wanting to witness Toni’s reaction. He is met with silence, so he says more firmly, “Now.” He pushes his chair back abruptly, cringing at the scraping noise it makes, and walks over to the door. When he opens it, he chances a glance at Toni. There remains a flicker of hurt in her features, but she gives him a firm nod anyway. Quietly, she gathers her jacket. But before she makes any move toward the door that Jughead is holding open, she looks back up at him.

 

“She doesn’t accept you, Juggie,” she says. “I know you’ve always wanted to think that she’s different, but she’s just like all those other Northsiders. Hasn’t she proved that today?”

 

Jughead clenches his jaw, but he doesn’t respond. “Toni…” he warns, tightening his grip on the door.

 

She walks slowly over to him and places a hand on his shoulder. “She doesn’t get you like I do. When you realize that, you know where to find me.” With that, Toni descends the steps of Jughead’s trailer. Before she can reach the bottom, though, a firm hand grabs her arm and whirls her around.

 

“No one,” Jughead says, his voice thick with emotion but unwavering, “will ever understand me like Betty Cooper does. You’re completely wrong about her.” After a pause, he adds, “And don’t call me Juggie.”

 

He registers the shock on Toni’s face, and all at once he realizes that maybe he should have seen this coming. All the signs were there: Toni staring at him, flirting with him, even right in front of Betty. It had to have been so obvious to her—his Nancy Drew, his brilliant investigator, never missing a detail of anything. He recalls the way she paused when he told her in his trailer that he had started working on the cipher with Toni, and now he thinks that she was probably hurting. But she didn’t tell him, of course, because she wanted to put her trust him; Betty, his greatest supporter, the girl who was understanding even when Toni said those untrue things about her, even when Jughead let her say those untrue things about her.

 

Suddenly, he doesn’t want to see Toni’s face anymore. Jughead turns and walks back into his trailer, slamming the door behind him with no further explanation. He immediately sinks to the ground, his back to the door, and runs his hands through his hair. The tears come easily, and with them come all the feelings that he’s been pushing down for days.

 

He’s known for a while that his relationship was suffering. Apparently, he severely underestimated the extent of the problem, but he certainly isn’t surprised that his lies and denial have come back to haunt him. Jughead knows that he fibbed about the incident at school to protect Betty, to save her from unnecessary worry and pain, but that doesn’t change the fact that it marked the start of their open door of communication slowly closing. He caused a crack in the armor with that lie, and there’s no getting around that.

 

So it’s really no wonder, he thinks now, that Betty started lying to him too. He allows himself for the first time since Archie showed up at the trailer to remember the last time he saw her, in that lonely booth at Pop’s. There was a mutual understanding of falsehood there—a quiet agreement to leave out the details that would force them to address the reality of what was happening.

 

But then there was that moment. She spoke of running away, of Romeo and Juliet, and Jughead believes with everything in him that she meant it. He can’t dismiss the fact that he _knows_ Betty, knows her better than he knows himself, maybe. So how could he have missed that she was looking for a way out of their relationship? How could what Archie said be true _and_ that moment in the diner be real? They don’t make sense together.

 

Suddenly, Jughead feels sick. Guilt stabs him in the chest and spreads downward to his stomach, which he clutches tightly. He believed Archie, took him at his word. But not once in all his pain and anger and defeat did he think to talk to Betty herself. Maybe the words she said at Pop’s were true, and Archie’s were false. He thinks back to all the interactions he’s had with Betty over the past week, thinks about the _I love you_ s they shared in his trailer not long ago. One of his favorite things about her has always been her tenacity—her refusal to give up, even when the situation seems impossible. And here he is, giving up on her at the drop of a hat.

 

Maybe he’s wrong, though. Maybe he’s been blinded by his love for Betty and hasn’t noticed the signs of her lack of affection.

 

But does Jughead want to risk this, risk _her_ , on that chance?

 

He furiously wipes the tears from his face and pushes himself off the floor. Grabbing his sherpa jacket, he throws open the trailer door and marches to his bike. If Betty wants to end it with Jughead, she’ll have to tell him to his face.

 

It’s not long before his bike is parked outside her house and he’s making his way over to the ladder propped against her window. He briefly wonders why it’s still there, why she hasn’t moved it for fear of the Black Hood or to mark the finality of their break. But he pushes that thought down to focus on the task at hand.

 

When Jughead reaches the top of the ladder and knocks on her window, he can hear his heart beating erratically against his chest. He hasn’t felt this nervous since the first time he climbed this ladder, when he was debating whether or not he wanted to tell Betty what she meant to him. This moment is a far cry from that one, but Jughead doesn’t want to dwell on anything other than what he’s going to say to her when she opens the window. So he waits.

 

A few seconds seem like forever, but at last he sees her. She pulls the curtains back, and he struggles to keep in a sob that immediately rises in his throat when he takes in her appearance. Betty, his bright and beautiful girl with her brilliant smile, now looks like a ghost of who she once was. Her face is thinner, darker. Instead of the usual tight ponytail that Jughead has come to love, her hair is haphazardly pulled back into a low tie with careless strands flying everywhere. And her eyes—those eyes that always draw him in with their light—are completely clouded, as though a darkness has passed over them.

 

When Jughead notes her tearstained cheeks, it’s enough to break him. He lets out the cry that he’s been holding in and places a desperate hand on the barrier still standing between them. Betty’s tears are flowing too when she unlocks and raises the window, backing away with her hand covering her mouth as he makes the final climb into her room. All he wants to do is wrap her in the tightest hug he can muster, but he knows that he has to do what he came here for, so he stops himself.

 

“Betts…” he says. She closes her eyes as though she can’t bear to look at him. “Is it true?”

 

He doesn’t have to clarify what he’s talking about, because she instantly crumples. This time, Jughead doesn’t hesitate. He rushes to her and pulls her into a bruising hug. She doesn’t reciprocate, and at first he thinks that she’s about to tell him to go away. But then she melts into his grip, sobbing, and he guesses that she’s just too weak to return it right now.

 

“Betty,” he says softly once she’s quieted down. “Look at me.” She stiffens in his arms, and Jughead can tell that he’s going to have to force this conversation. He places a finger under her chin, pushing away the memory of the kiss he’d given her at Pop’s after the same move, and lifts her head. When she meets his eyes, he knows that it’s now or never. “You have to tell me the truth,” he says. “Forget about everything else—about everything that’s happening outside this room, and talk to me. It’s just us. It’s just me.”

 

Betty hesitates, and Jughead doesn’t push her. He can see the struggle in her eyes. He knows that she’ll talk when she’s ready.

 

“What if…” she starts, grasping his shirt tightly. “What if I can’t?”

 

He places a tender hand over her fist, hoping it will help her relax. “Why wouldn’t you be able to?”

 

He doesn’t miss the glance she casts at his touch before responding. When she does, something shifts in her expression. “Juggie…” she says.

 

Suddenly, the pieces start coming together in his head. Jughead thinks about the note the Black Hood sent her, the way he formed a message that only Betty could read. He remembers how she glossed over the fact that she had published the article about her mom the last time they talked. He can still see the distant look in her eyes, like she had the weight of something he didn’t know about on her shoulders.

 

“He… he threatened you, didn’t he?” Jughead asks.

 

She is silent, and it’s all the confirmation he needs.

 

“Betty, you need to tell me everything. I promise you that he won’t hurt you. I won’t let that happen. Just tell me the truth.”

 

But she still doesn’t say anything, and Jughead can tell that there’s something he’s missing.

 

“What if…” she starts again. “What if it’s not me that I’m worried about?”

 

She looks back up at him then, and he finally understands. He sees the pain there that has probably been present for days, the pain that she’s been dealing with alone. He knows what the Black Hood has done to her.

 

“He threatened _me_ ,” he says, and it isn’t a question.

 

Tears begin to roll down Betty’s cheeks again, and Jughead wipes them away with his thumb. He doesn’t remove his hand when he’s done, cupping her face softly. He sees that she is struggling to speak, so he waits.

 

“Juggie, he’s been calling me.”

 

Jughead pushes down his anger—anger at the Black Hood for doing this to her, anger at himself for not seeing her pain, anger at the universe for hurting someone as good and wonderful as Betty Cooper—and focuses on her words. He wants to be there for her now, make up for every agonizing second that he’s been absent.

 

“He told me that as long as I keep doing what he says, he won’t kill anybody. He threatened Polly, Veronica, you. He said I had to cut you off, and I couldn’t stand to think of you getting hurt—,” she chokes down a sob. Jughead runs his fingers through her hair, trying not to break down himself. “So I sent Archie to tell you that I needed some space, because I knew if I saw you that you would see right through me.”

 

Betty lets herself cry again, clearly finished speaking, and Jughead pulls her into a fierce embrace. She buries her face into his shoulder, and he strokes the back of her head while he allows his own tears to fall.

 

“Betts,” he whispers, still holding her tightly. “I am so sorry.”

 

They stay like that, tangled up in each other, for what seems like hours. When Betty finally pulls away, her forehead is red from where it was pushed into his shirt. Both of their faces are tearstained, Betty’s hair is mussed, and Jughead’s beanie has long since been lost.

 

“Juggie?” she asks timidly.

 

“Yeah, Betts?”

 

“I love you.”

 

Jughead reaches his hand behind her head and pulls her forehead to meet his. “I love you too, Betty Cooper.” She shakes a little, and a single tear rolls down her face. He places both hands on either side of her face and strokes his thumbs across her cheeks. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore,” he says. “We’re not splitting up. I’m right here. And he’s not going to win, Betty. We’re going to find him.” He says it with so much confidence that even he’s surprised, but he immediately knows it’s true. He was so foolish to believe that she didn’t love him, that a stupid Riverdale civil war could break them up. They are Betty and Jughead, the best investigative duo the town has ever seen and the oddest pair to ever fall in love. Nothing could tear them apart. Not even the Black Hood—not even…

 

“Betty,” Jughead says, releasing his grip and leaning back to give her some space. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

 

He can tell by the way she looks at him that she can hear the guilt in his voice.

 

“When Archie delivered your message, he may have… exaggerated things a bit, and, well… I may have believed him.”

 

Betty’s expression is unreadable, so Jughead continues.

 

“I was so hurt and lost, and I thought you broke up with me because of the Serpents, so I self-destructed a little bit. And that’s no excuse for what I did, but… I wanted something to numb the pain.”

 

He pauses, trying to gauge her reaction. She looks down at the floor and fiddles with the hem of her shirt. “Toni,” she says in a whisper that’s barely audible.

 

Jughead can feel the pain radiating off of her, and he desperately wants to be able to take it all back. He doesn’t respond, and he sees her quiver a little in recognition.

 

“Did you, um…” she starts, color rising in her cheeks. She clenches her fists, and Jughead wants to reach out and unclasp them, but he’s afraid to touch her right now. “Did you guys… you know…” she trails off and turns her face away from him.

 

Immediately, Jughead realizes what she’s suggesting. “No! No, Betty, no. I was hurt, and Toni was there. She leaned in to kiss me, and I was so desperate to feel better that I kissed her back. But it only lasted for a second, and then I told her to leave. I haven’t seen her since.”

 

Betty looks at him then. The pain is still there, but it’s mixed with some relief that Jughead can only guess stems from the knowledge that their kiss didn’t go any further than that.

 

She sighs. “I’m not going to fault you for that, Jughead,” she says, and he lets out the breath he was holding. “I get where you were coming from. I don’t know what I’d do if I thought you…” She doesn’t finish the sentence, and he doesn’t need her to.

 

“Betty,” Jughead says, reaching out and taking her hands into his. “I am so sorry. What I did was wrong, and it didn’t feel right or good or like anything other than a mistake. I told her off a little bit afterward, and I felt so guilty. I know you’ve probably lost some trust in me, but I really want the chance to rebuild it. Will you let me make it up to you, Betts? Please?”

 

Her eyes soften, and she gives him what he thinks is the first smile he’s seen from her since the one at Pop’s. It’s watery and tinged with a little sadness, but it’s more than he deserves, and his heart is overwhelmed with happiness at the sight of it.

 

“Of course, Juggie. I love you, so much. I’m just sorry I hurt you.”

 

He doesn’t let her say anything else, because they can continue this conversation later when they’re not emotionally drained and exhausted. He rushes at her, crushing her into another hug that somehow feels even tighter than all the ones they’ve shared since he climbed through her window tonight. Betty reciprocates it fully this time, and Jughead peppers her shoulder with kisses while he slips his hands under her shirt to wrap them around her waist. Her hand flies to his hair, kneading through his dark locks. He pulls his face back and looks at her intently, and he doesn’t even try to hide the full-on smile playing across his features. She smiles back at him, and his heart soars. Before he knows it, her lips are on his, and he’s kissing Betty Cooper once again.

 

This time, Betty is kissing him.

 

 _Betty_ is kissing him.

 

And, damn it, he’s kissing her back.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this soothed some of your achy hearts like it did mine. We can make it through this, guys! Bughead will rise!
> 
> Let me know what you guys think, and thanks for reading!


End file.
